


la rose et la bête

by midnightghostwriter



Category: AOMG, Jay Park (Musician), Simon Dominic (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Beauty and the Beast Elements, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, bc there will be more characters and things happening and idk what else to tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:43:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9988430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightghostwriter/pseuds/midnightghostwriter
Summary: in which a young rural girl gets swept into a tale that was supposed to be nothing more than an eerie local legend, and the events that occurred thereafter.or: a beauty and the beast retelling featuring a new cast of characters you wouldn't see in your disney movie.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I started working on a few months ago and the first part of it is finally finished!! I really do plan to write out this whole story, but it will be very slow going, so please bear with me.
> 
> It is also worth noting that this is an adaptation using elements from multiple versions of the beauty and the beast tale, some artistic choices, and of course the replacing of certain major characters. You are welcome to make suggestions, but please do not try to correct me. I promise I did research on this story, not just the Disney version, and am writing it my own way. This is not intended to be an exact retelling.
> 
> That said, please do leave comments and kudos letting me know what you think! I hope you enjoy!!

Small country towns were known for many things: busy markets, a variety of dialects branching from the common tongue, citizens who knew each other by name after generations of families growing together, a strength of community not found in the cities. But perhaps most famous of all, were the folk legends each town held. Tales of woe, and lessons to be learned, passed down through the generations by word of mouth and storytelling traditions. And you would know these differences to be true, having come from the city yourself, to a small rural town where those things and more ran rampant.

It had been several months since you had moved to this town that was anything but quiet. Despite your love for the bustling kingdom capital that had been home since you could remember, you had decided to do so for you father’s health. With your mother too many years out of the picture, _someone_ had to make him follow the doctor’s orders. He’d prescribed clean air and a change of pace, alongside the herbs he’d given you, and so far it had proven effective. Your father had always been a tinkerer, and now he could often find the strength to do so in the workshop behind your shared cottage, rather than in bed (which he had done in the past, and it had proven to be an utter disaster). It would be some time before he was _truly_ well, but it was progress.

While he recovered his strength and will, you had worked odd jobs (seamstress, launderer, maid, and more besides) to keep you two afloat, though many kind neighbors had given food and such when they became aware of your plight. You had come to learn a great deal about the quaint provincial village this way. Most notably, you had heard just about every version there was of its famous legend, perhaps more times than you could stand.

According to the few themes you’d been able to glean from the tale’s retellings, it spoke of the rather impressive castle that loomed in the hills above town. It had once been home to the kind and gracious lord who ruled over this small community so far from the capital’s reach. When he passed from a bout of plague that claimed him and most of the castle staff along with some of the village’s population, his son took the mantle. While handsome enough for most of the men in town, he became more and more of a recluse, perhaps afraid to find himself with his father’s fate. So complete was this isolation that it became veritably forbidden for citizens to so much as approach the castle.

Then one night, a beautiful woman came to town. She asked the lord’s son to grant her sanctuary, for it was merchant season and the inn was full. But he turned her away, telling her to seek shelter at the next town. Twice more she begged his hospitality, and twice more he denied her. Slighted by his refusal, she laid a great curse upon him and the castle. No one knew the full extent of what she had done, but he and the castle staff had not been seen or heard from since, and any who dared to investigate the strange noises sometimes heard from the castle, or the whispers of ghosts within its walls, had never returned.

As you turned the story over in your head yet again, your gaze fell upon the structure in question. Despite the years that had (supposedly) come and gone since the lord had passed and his son vanished, it seemed as pristine as it must have been when it was built, aside from the glimpses of green ivy slinking up the walls. How true could such a legend really be, if it was in such a state?

“ _Mon cher_.” You turned to see your father standing in the doorway of his workshop. Before you could answer, the endearment was followed by a round of violent coughs that had you rushing to his side.

“Papa!” He waved away your concern and leaned his weight on the door frame.

“I’m fine,” he assured, and when you looked skeptical, he frowned and tried again. “ _I’m fine._ Honestly girl, one would think I was on death’s door with the way you act.” He was met with your very unamused frown and sighed. “We’re running low on a few things – I’ve made a list. Could you go into town and get them? I’ve almost reached a breakthrough on this project, or I would do it myself.”

“Of course! I had wanted to stop by the library anyway.” Scurrying off into the house, you grabbed the list, pouch of coins, and a basket, before heading out on the path to town.

“Library” was a very gracious title for the small, somewhat rundown, home in town where Monsieur Dupont housed his modest collection of books. The mix of worn novels and fresh-printed historical retellings were loaned out on good faith to anyone with the mind and heart for learning. You were one such individual, having hungrily grasped at any books you could get even when living in the city, always seeking new knowledge and tales, to the point you’d read all of Dupont’s collection several times since your arrival. He greeted you warmly as you entered, gravitating immediately to the familiar shelves to place the last volume you’d borrowed back amongst its brothers.

“Why don’t you just keep it dear?” You turned to face his kind smile with wide eyes.

“Really?” He nodded, amusement crinkling the crows-feet around his eyes. “Oh _thank you!_ ” He grunted as you swept him into an impromptu hug, and chuckled when you sheepishly released him.

“Though one might think you hardly need the physical version now. Surely you’ve memorized that tale with how many times you’ve read it.” He laughed again as pink colored your cheeks and your expression turned somewhat abashed.

“Can you blame me, monsieur? Fairies, dragons, a sleeping princess awaiting true love’s kiss to wake her – it’s so terribly exciting!”

“A classic, to be sure,” he agreed. You scanned the shelves again.

“Have you received anything new, by chance?”

“Not since you asked three days ago. Try again on Sunday when the merchants come back through to the capital.” With a nod and another round of hurried thank-yous, you exited Dupont’s library, and hurried to the market square at the town’s center.

Unlike the library, Market Square was a bustling, lively, always changing place. Centered on the town’s modest fountain, several streets of shop fronts, stalls, and even simple vendors with blankets on the worn street crowded together. Locals and far-off merchants gathered to entice wandering shoppers to buy their wares. Aside from Dupont’s, it was one of your favorite places in town. During merchant season, travelers could be found sharing mysterious tales with children of their journeys, and you too ate them up despite your age. Today, it was just a small crowd of townspeople that advertised and browsed, allowing you to easily traipse the brick-lined streets and pick up the wares from your father’s list. It was quick work, and left you with coin to spare, much to your delight.

Not much feeling like returning to home just yet, you hefted the basket, tucked your book under one arm, and made your way back through the market street to a spot in the cool shade cast by the fountain in the square. It bubbled cheerily as you settled your back against its stone edge and your legs on the sun-warmed bricks. You set the basket down and pulled out your book, flipping to one of your favorite parts. The princess had just encountered a stranger in the forest, unaware he was the prince, and they were sharing their mutual feelings of unexpected connection, when the volume was suddenly snatched from your grasp.

“Hey!” Your indignant cry was met with a scoff as the offender flipped the pages of the book. Standing, you whirled and bit back a groan when you saw just who had stolen your precious novel.

“How can you sit through this stuff? It’s just walls and walls of tiny text, really. How dull!” Barely containing your frustrated growl, you reached for the book, just as he tossed it to the ground behind you, utter disinterest written on his features. Swiping it off the dusty street, you brushed it clean and glared at him.

“You might just like it if you tried to _actually_ read it, Jay. Goodness knows you can’t focus long on anything you can’t shoot, though,” you snapped. Much to your increasing chagrin, he replied with an arrogant laugh and matching smirk as he stepped off the fountain’s edge and closer to you.

“Feisty as ever, _belle_.” You bristled and backed away a few steps, the book cradled protectively against your chest.

“That’s not my name!”

“Ah, but it’s fitting, don’t you think?” He stepped closer and caught your face in his hand, turning it so he could admire your snarling countenance. Most women in town would’ve killed for the attractive hunter (for even you had to admit that he certainly was good-looking, even if his _winning_ personality made it hard for you to see it) to touch them as he was you, but you felt more like prey being appraised than a woman admired.

“Let go of me!” You slapped at his arm, and he released you so suddenly that your struggling caused you stumble backwards. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” At this, all the mirth dropped from his face. The abrupt seriousness with which he nodded took you aback.

“I didn’t come here just to bother you, actually. Amusing as that might be. I came to hear your answer.” You blinked in confusion, and he frowned. “You told me if I gave you three days, you’d have an answer for me. So, what it’ll be?” You balked, genuinely at a loss.

“ _What_?” He dropped to one knee and took one of your hands in both of his. You were too startled to object.

“You _will_ marry me, won’t you?” Suddenly, it all came rushing back: last time you had come to town, Jay had cornered you near the tavern and, with what must have been practically the whole town as witness, asked you to marry him. The stench of ale on his breath had been unbearably strong and, thinking him much too blind drunk to be serious, you’d laughingly told him you would answer in three days. You’d hoped he would be too inebriated to actually remember the incident when the time came. Apparently he’d been more sober than you’d realized.

With a sigh, you yanked your hand back from his and stepped around him. Glancing down at him, you shook your head.

“I will _never_ marry an arrogant fool like you, Jay,” you snapped, and stormed off.

As you were hurrying down a small alley (a precaution to ensure Jay wouldn’t follow you), a wheezing chuckle emanated from the shadows. You halted, squinting into the darkness for the source of the sound. A hunched old crone emerged, eyes rheumy and jaundiced, her grey hair matted and filled with debris like the mane of a wild animal. She lifted a gnarled finger, its yellowed talon of a fingernail jabbing in your direction.

“You turned down quite the offer, young lady,” she croaked. A shudder ran down your spine at the sound, but you stared at her as evenly as possible.

“I saved both of us from an unhappy arrangement,” you corrected and the hag laughed again.

“So you say, but perhaps his feelings were genuine.” Your eyes rolled.

“The day that man has genuine feelings for one that isn’t his own reflection will be the day that castle stands good as new,” you scoffed, your eyes softening a second later. “He will find someone much better for him than I would be.”

“That day may just come sooner than you think, dearie.” She gestured to the coin purse balanced among the goods in your basket before you could ask for her to elaborate. “Have you any coin to spare?” Pulling the flimsy fabric open, you fished out a few coins and dropped them into her waiting palm. The woman’s cracked lips split to reveal an array of teeth, most either missing or in varying states of decay.

“You talk bravely, but you have a kind heart. That kindness will lead you to true love, so long as you are careful to see with your heart, and not your eyes.” As she spoke, her image shifted, and for just a moment she appeared to be a strikingly beautiful young woman, almost like the sorceress from the legends. But then you blinked, and she was just an ailing old woman slinking back into the shadows.

“What does that mean?” You tried to ask. She just chuckled.

“Be wary – things are not always as they first seem.” And then she was gone.

* * *

For several days, the old woman’s words stuck with you, lingering in your mind and haunting you in everything you did. Eventually, you wrote her off as a mere insane vagabond, both for your own sanity and because no other conclusion was logical. Unless she really was some fortune-telling sorceress. But that was impossible. That sort of thing only happened in stories.

You also did not hear from Jay for some time. And for the most part you were grateful, part of you felt a tad bit guilty. You _had_ been rather harsh in refuting him, but you meant what you’d said to that woman. Neither of you would’ve been happy with such an arrangement. Not to mention you couldn’t begin to stomach the thought. No, some other woman someday would make him much happier than you ever could. You were doing both of you a kindness, you told yourself.

Just when things felt that they could be returning to their quiet normalcy, tragedy struck. Your father had been in his workshop more and more of late, and it had become a common occurrence to not see him for days at a time except for meals. But when he didn’t appear for any meals at all some days later, you grew concerned. Knocking on the door several times got you nowhere, and you began to panic. Desperate, you hunted down the extra key, and forced your way in.

“Papa?” A cursory glance revealed only scattered parts and semi-completed assemblies you couldn’t begin to fathom in this state. Your father had never been a very tidy person, so it was no surprise to see the small space in such disarray; to see no sign of him in it, however, was. Curious, and more than a little fearful, you took a few steps further in. Your foot collided with something soft as you did so, and you froze. Startled, your gaze dropped to the floor, and a frightened gasp escaped you.

“Father!” You winced slightly as your knees hit the floor when you knelt next to him, every action a rushed panic. He groaned as if in agony as you turned him over and pressed a hand to his forehead. The burning heat that met your palm made you gasp again. Heart thundering in your ears and throat, you leaned closer. “Papa, where is your medicine?” Lifting a shaking finger, he pointed to a cabinet further in. You darted toward it, wrenching its small doors open. Inside, the bottle from the city doctor stared morosely at you, making your heart stop as you looked at in horror.

_Empty._

Mind racing, you rushed back to your father and helped ease him into sitting, then standing. Moving his weight toward the cottage on your own was a struggle, but you managed it just as he collapsed in a series of hacking coughs. Fetching a pitcher and glass, you set him up in bed as best you could. Perching on the edge of the thin mattress, you took his hand.

“Papa, I’m going to go to town for help. Try not to move – just rest. There’s water here for you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Then you bolted to the door, grabbing your cloak to fight the chill outside. Just as you were fastening it about your shoulders, a knock sounded against the sturdy wood. You wrenched it open to the last person you wanted to see.

“Belle, I-“

“Jay,” you interrupted, wringing your hands. “ _Please_ get out of my way. I don’t have time for this.” You tried to slide past him, but he shifted his weight, effectively trapping you. You didn’t dare move back, though, lest he invite himself inside.

“Just hear me out, please.” Without any other options, you crossed your arms and waited for him to continue. “I want to ask you to change your answer.” You gaped at him.”

“Now is really not the time for this. Please move while I’m still asking nicely.” As if he’d only just seen the distress on your face, he frowned and leaned closer. You leaned back instinctively.

“What’s wrong? I didn’t mean to upset you like this, really.” A sigh blustered past your lips.

“There is a fool standing in my way when I am trying to save my father, so forgive me if I’m a bit less hospitable,” you snapped. For just a moment, it seemed as if, by no small miracle, he had understood, that he would finally get out of your way. But then his concerned expression became ever-so-slightly tainted by arrogance and he was back to normal.

“Your father is ill?” Glaring, you nodded. “Well that’s all the more reason to say yes, then!”

“What?” You squawked, and you were so taken aback, you made no moves to object as he took your hands in his, looking just a bit too eager about the whole situation.

“Don’t you see? If you agree to marry me, I can get you the money to bring the physician from the city to help your father. It’s an ideal arrangement, if I dare say so myself.” Through the smugness coloring his tone, you could hear the insinuation, and white hot rage flooded through you in that moment. Without thinking, your elbow reeled back and you brought your hand slamming into his face. The force sent Jay stumbling backwards, wide eyes regarding you with offense and surprise alike.

“How _DARE YOU!”_ You screeched, face aflame and fists clenched. You took a step toward him and he had the sense to move away. “How dare you use my father as a bargaining chip for your weak attempts at my hand! You are repulsive, repugnant, and I would not marry you if you were the last man on Earth! Now if you don’t get out of my way, I will not hesitate to break your nose this time!” For a moment, silence hung heavier than linen in the air, and you wondered if he was truly so stupid as to continue on with the idiotic charade of wooing you. But then at last he stepped out of the way, watching as you ran past him, slamming the door furiously as you disappeared into the night.

* * *

It was with a slowly encroaching dread that you discovered the town physician was not at his office. When you asked some of the neighbors about it, they said that he had left not so long ago to visit family and wouldn’t be back for several days. Panic began to claw its way up your throat, suffocating you. If he was gone, the only answer was to go to the next town over a fair distance away, or try to contact the city physician who had helped your father before. Neither option would give you enough time to save him.

Distraught, you began asking the townspeople if any of them had the medicine you were looking for. You received one of two results: a door slammed irately in your face, or piteous looks as people apologized for not having what you needed. By the time you circled back to the doctor’s office, it seemed as if all hope was lost. There was nothing left to do now, but return home and sit by your father’s bedside until his pain passed for good.

When you reached the end of the path that led to your small cottage, you were surprised to see two horses that were definitely not yours pawing at the ground. You slowed your hurried steps as you approached, both curious and wary. You did not expect the sight that greeted you at all once you reached the upper landing of your home.

Your father still lay in bed, but standing over him was the town physician. This alone would have been surprising enough, if you hadn’t caught sight of another person standing in the corner as well. Apparently Jay was not a very good listener after all. And maybe that was a good thing.

The two men standing turned to look at you as your steps sounded against the wood floor. The physician offered you a bleak smile, while Jay said nothing, his gaze unusually serious as he regarded you. The sight of both made your stomach churn.

“Hello, dear. I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Yes, certainly not what you were expecting or hoping to hear. But you swallowed your nerves to ask a question instead.

“How bad?” The tension in the room almost swallowed up your quiet words. The doctor furrowed his brows in contemplation as he looked back at your father.

“Not too bad, but not excellent. It’s a good thing Jay caught me when he did, or it could have been worse.” You gave him an impatient look and he coughed, looking almost nervous. “Your father’s condition can be stabilized, I have the medicine for that. But…” He hesitated again. “Unfortunately, I need a certain herb to make any sort of permanent remedy. And we don’t have any of it left here in town. I could go to the city and get it, but the time that would take… It’s simply too great a risk.” Your heart plummeted through the floor and then shot back into your throat to choke you.

“Is there really nowhere else we could get it?” You pleaded. The doctor’s face shifted, looking even more uncomfortable than before. “There is, isn’t there? Just tell me, I’ll go get it myself while you look after him! Just, please, do something!” He shook his head.

“It’s not that simple, dear.”

“Why not?!”

“Because the only other place nearby that has been known to have this particular plant is… the castle. And who knows if the plants once in the noble garden are even still growing.” Silence fell, and you thought over his words. If you waited for the doctor to go the city, your father was dead. If nothing was done, he was dead. But you could be to the castle garden and back within a few hours at best. Truly, there was no other option.

“I’ll take the horse and go. Doctor, please watch over my father.” Then you spun on your heel and marched downstairs.

“Belle, wait!” _God I really wish he would stop calling me that,_ you thought as you turned to face Jay. He stood a few steps up on the staircase, an odd look in his eye that you would almost call worry.

“I suppose I owe you my thanks,” you muttered before he could say anything more. He waved a hand dismissively.

“Consider it part of my trying to make amends with you. Helping you and your father was the least I can do.” You opened your mouth to end the conversation, but he held up a hand to stop you. “I could do more, though, if you’ll let me.”

“Jay, I swear to you, if this is about the proposal again-” He shook his head vehemently and came to meet you at the bottom of the stairs. As his eyes bored into yours, you noticed the somber air was about him again, his expression grim. He rested his hands on your shoulders, and it didn’t feel like his normal jovial gestures - it was serious in a way that left you feeling almost unsettled. This wasn’t the arrogant fool you knew.

“This and that are totally unrelated. Belle, look,” he began, grip tightening just a smidge, “I understand that you want to help your father. It’s admirable, even noble. But let me go there instead. It’s far too dangerous for you to go alone, who knows what could be waiting up there. Don’t you think it would be better if you stayed here with your father, where you’ll be safe? He wouldn’t be able to bear it if you were injured or worse in the name of saving him.” For once in your life, you could not detect a shred of insincerity or mockery in his words. He was being entirely serious, and that alone was somewhat endearing. But it was not enough to change your mind, and you shook your head to indicate as much, your hands gently pulling his off. He offered no resistance, just continued to stare seriously at you, as if hoping he could change your mind by being more compliant.

“I appreciate your… concern, Jay. But I’ll be fine. Please, I have to do this. There’s too much at risk for me not to go.”

“Belle…” You patted his shoulder gently. The gesture was almost alien, something so out of place and unfamiliar for you both that it offered no comfort whatsoever. So you did your best to smile in assurance at him as well. It had about the same effect.

“Really. If I don’t return within a day, come looking for me. But I will, I promise.” Before he could protest further or try to change your mind again, you were out the door, round the house to the stable. You pulled a thicker riding cloak on, hastily securing the saddle over the dappled mare that usually helped tote about your father’s inventions. The idea suddenly surfaced that this purpose of hers would cease to exist if your mission was unsuccessful, and it only strengthened your resolve as you gave one last powerful tug on the straps of the saddle. Then you swung one foot into the stirrup, and the other over the mare’s back. With the darkness of night approaching, you cracked the reins, and sped off onto the path that would take you to the abandoned castle and, hopefully, your father’s salvation.


End file.
